


Lolita Inspired

by utterxnfatuation



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 11:46:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12911277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/utterxnfatuation/pseuds/utterxnfatuation
Summary: Bubblegum pink lips, teeth bitten and tongue sore, lolita inspired, and Sammy’s all grown up now.-That was the best line of the whole work, so I'm using it to fake all of you out and hopefully make someone like me?





	Lolita Inspired

Bubblegum pink lips, teeth bitten and tongue sore, lolita inspired, and Sammy’s all grown up now. Bubblegum bubbles swallowed in moans, teary eyes, and Sammy still calls him De. What happened to ‘grown up’, sweetstuff? Hips dented in fingerprints, hair sticking to sweaty cheeks, and Sammy utters Daddy, harder. Always harder, never sweeter. Never gentle. All slutty and begging for Dean’s cock, hitting every inch of the godforsaken temple, and Sammy’s only in high school. Only in high school, but his mouth is better than anyone Dean’s ever known. Holds the hood of the Impala better than any set of fingers Dean’s ever seen, arches his back better than any bartender Dean’s ever dragged to the bathroom stalls between breaks, moans better than any bitch Dean’s ever had under him. 

Don’t you miss your innocence, whatever parts of it you had? Dean doesn’t believe Sam was ever innocent. He believes that he came out of the womb, crying about being empty and not having anything in his mouth. He believes that with his whole heart. Sam only believes when he’s on his knees, tears sealing his eye and spit sealing his lips, and Dean doesn’t believe until he’s above him, being worshipped with kitten licks and whispers of breath against slick skin. They were never believers; their sins and whispers of brother were too loud when the clouds rolled out that they never thought they’d quite fit in. But, that never stopped them. They were never pushed to right or wrong, just to yeah, harder, and fuck, deeper, but they couldn’t, would never dare complain. If God, or whoever was out there, gave Sam such a good brother, a good lover, a good fucker, who was he to be ungrateful? 

Has anyone had such a dirty mouth at their sweet sixteen? No, they haven’t. No one but Sam has grown up like he has, on his knees at eleven, calling Dean’s name out like it’s the only word he’s ever been taught at twelve, getting fucked over impala hoods at thirteen, chronic knee bruises at fourteen, and cramped wrists at fifteen. Physical reminders that Dean owned him and his life's only started. Hickeys were only enough until Sammy got pretty, prettier, and the football players and cheerleaders started noticing. Dean almost bought a collar, but he knew Sam already was his, heart and soul and everything in between, and he knew Sam knew it too. Sam didn’t need reminders, something to give himself up, he just breathed and it was all for Dean. A breath was all he needed, and his heart yearned for Dean’s soothing skin pressed against him, around him, inside him. Dean never had to say You’re mine because no matter how much it was true, or how much it would make Sam come, they already knew. 

Doesn’t your sweet little body ever get tired of the black and blue? Sam was born for the black and blue, for the friction of a cock pushing in and out of his body, for the lips attached to his supple skin, for the gripping fingers squeezing his bony hips. A cock, a set of lips, a set of fingers. Deans. No one else touches Dean’s, he doesn’t share. Dean doesn’t share what he owns, what’s his. Popping bubblegum bubbles with sweet cherry smiles, and Sammy’s just starting sophomore year. Just seventeen, and his throat runs red and his lips beat pink lace. Just seventeen, and he’s already been stretched open and used more than a retired pornstar. Sam was never perfect, he had a watery eye and a crooked tooth (it was in the back so he didn’t bother worrying), but he was handcrafted with bird bones and beautiful skin, strung together with silk string and soft words. Sam was never perfect, but Dean loved every tear and every crooked smile. Everything about Sam’s body was beautiful, and Dean, no matter how much time he spent on it, worshipping it and kissing it, loving every inch, never thought he’d spend enough time against it. With it. Inside it. 

Everyone wanted to tell Sam things, push his mind into different directions and pull his heart on strings, but it never worked. Never, because he didn’t listen to anyone but Dean. Not his dad, or his teachers, or his friends, but Dean and Dean only. He was like a puppy, begging on his hands and knees for attention, and when Dean opened a palm to him, Sam was attached to his hip. Dean was his favorite, and nothing would ever change that. Wrapped up in bubblegum and cherry red lip gloss, and Sammy’s just a boy. Dean’s boy.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, and it's the first one I'm posting, and probably the last one. Sorry, I lowkey lost track of the plot in the middle of the damn story, but my adhd really likes to make itself known. But, if you made it this far, thanks, and my stick around? xoxo


End file.
